


give or take

by despitethewives (choirboyharem)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, supermega
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Video: The Guys Go to Nevada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choirboyharem/pseuds/despitethewives
Summary: Matt feels frozen in place. What the fuck are you even supposed to do in a situation like this? Just say“Hey, asshole, I’m still awake, but even if I wasn’t, this is really gross and fucked up to do when I’m literally laying right next to you, me, your best friend”?Is Matt supposed to say anything? Is it better to not say anything? Should he just try to go to sleep?How can he? Really, how? Ryan is jerking off next to him. No one can fall asleep like that.
Relationships: Ryan Magee/Matt Watson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 50





	give or take

**Author's Note:**

> got drunk, couldn’t stop thinking about the guys go to nevada and how we literally just got free “sharing a bed” content

It happens at about two in the morning, give or take. Matt is awake because, well, it’s him. It’s the whole ‘sleeping in an unfamiliar bed’ thing. He can’t get used to it and the bed isn’t very big. 

Maybe Ryan would’ve been able to get away with it if it had been bigger. But not like this. It’ll give Matt significant pause later, make him think about why Ryan even tried it in the first place. In the moment, however, the realization makes Matt freeze and he can’t even do anything for a second. 

He doesn’t realize it when Ryan shifts, because that’s not out of the ordinary. He made a big show out of tossing and turning and kicking Matt in as many creative ways as he could manage earlier. It mainly just makes Matt want to hit him back and he makes up his mind that he will if Ryan moves again. He’ll hit Ryan hard enough that it’ll fucking hurt and it’ll fucking last because this isn’t making falling asleep any easier. 

He still doesn’t realize it when Ryan sighs. It’s barely a sound, trapped and smothered. Matt grits his teeth and wills him to shut the fuck up. 

He only realizes it when it happens again and he hears a slick noise. Skin on skin. Matt’s eyes snap open, his heart stopping. 

Ryan’s jerking off next to him. Shamelessly, unabashedly, Ryan is jerking off next to him in bed, most likely assuming that Matt is already asleep.

At least Matt  _ hopes _ that’s what he thinks. He has to think that, right?

Matt feels frozen in place. What the fuck are you even supposed to do in a situation like this? Just say  _ “Hey, asshole, I’m still awake, but even if I wasn’t, this is really gross and fucked up to do when I’m literally laying right next to you, me, your best friend”? _ Is Matt supposed to say anything? Is it better to  _ not _ say anything? Should he just try to go to sleep?

How can he? Really, how? Ryan is jerking off next to him. No one can fall asleep like that. 

To his credit, Ryan  _ is _ being pretty quiet. His breathing is a little heavier and he makes these tiny _ “ah” _ sounds here and there under his breath, but it’s pretty difficult to hear him under the fans in the air conditioning. Matt doesn’t realize that he’s straining to hear it until he’s holding his breath and he immediately feels his gut clench with self-repulsion and guilt. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

That’s a legitimate question that he needs an answer to. What the fuck  _ is _ wrong with him? Matt swallows and shuts his eyes again only to open them right back up. He carefully, carefully moves his hand to tug at his sweatpants, trying to get them unstuck from an uncomfortable fold in the fabric. His hand brushes his dick and he realizes with dismay that it’s taken significant interest in the recent turn of events. 

Matt is a sick fuck. It’s one thing to jerk off next to your best friend when you recklessly assume that he’s asleep, but it’s another thing entirely to be aroused by your best friend jerking off next to you when he recklessly assumes that you’re asleep. What is that, voyeurism? Is that what that fetish is? Does Matt have that? 

He has something. Definitely something. Matt hears Ryan swear, hissing  _ “fuck”  _ low and rough between his teeth, and it makes this hot, awful, wonderful thrill roll down Matt’s spine. 

He’s sick. He’s sick. He’s a freak. Matt’s hand trembles as he slips it into his sweatpants, curling his fingers around his half-hard cock, trying to move as little as humanly possible. 

If Matt does make any obvious moves that he’s awake, Ryan doesn’t notice. He just keeps fucking into his own fist. Matt jerks himself off slow and dry, burning with shame as he does it, biting down hard on his bottom lip because if he makes a single noise, he’s going to die. The bed creaks when Ryan gives a particularly blatant thrust of his hips and he stops in place in an instant. Matt stares in terror at the opposite wall, holding his breath again. 

Matt counts exactly ten seconds before Ryan starts again, meaning that Ryan was doing the same thing. It’s something that Matt would probably do in his place. (Although Matt might go for fifteen. If he was insane enough to do this kind of thing first at all.) Ryan resumes with a soft moan and it makes Matt shudder, because it’s so unlike any sound Matt has ever heard from him before. He’s heard Ryan make sex noises as a joke many, many times. He’s heard him make noises out of frustration and anger and satisfaction and joy. But this is completely different. It’s thick, rich, indulgent sexual pleasure, gratification. It’s vulnerable. It’s so hot that Matt forgets to be careful for a second, speeding up the rhythm of his hand. He knows he jostles the bed a little when he does it and he just hopes against hope that Ryan doesn’t figure things out. 

The thing is, though, Matt whimpers right then, and it’s absolutely impossible that Ryan didn’t hear that. 

_ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. _ Matt’s breathing quickens as he pulls his hand off his dick, unmoving. He’s asleep he’s asleep he’s asleep.  _ You’re dreaming, actually, Ryan. You were never jerking off at all.  _

But Ryan doesn’t seem to get his subliminal messaging. The bed jostles harder as Ryan rolls over and Matt finds an arm around his waist, jerking him back. Matt yelps, all of a sudden feeling Ryan’s cock press up against his ass. 

“You little freak,” Ryan whispers in his ear, shoving his hand down Matt’s sweatpants. 

“Ryan,” Matt gasps, feeling lightheaded when Ryan grabs his dick, his fingers warm and big and firm. Shit, maybe Matt  _ is  _ dreaming. This can’t be real, can it? Ryan isn’t actually jerking him off. This is so absurd that it can’t possibly be real. 

But no dream has ever felt this good before. Not even any of Matt’s other Ryan dreams. (Which, look, those are normal; everyone has sex dreams about people they’re close to. They have sex dreams about their family members, their teachers, their neighbors, their dogs, whatever. They’re normal.) Ryan grinds his hips against Matt’s ass as he fists Matt’s cock, leaving Matt groaning into the pillow that he presses against his mouth, his skin blotchy and flushed and that bubbly-champagne, white-hot, tension-high building far too quickly in his stomach. 

“Fuck, dude, what—Jesus fucking Christ,” Matt chokes out when Ryan twists his hand and strokes up. 

“Man, shut up for a second,” Ryan pants. His dick feels so fucking big against Matt’s ass. Matt can only begin to imagine how it might feel inside him. How Ryan would absolutely split him open. It would hurt at first, sure, but he’d fill Matt up so good. He’d fuck Matt into submission, fuck him until Matt was a sobbing, debauched mess on the bed, begging to come. And Ryan wouldn’t let him. He’d grip Matt’s throat and cut his air off. Matt would make him feel powerful. 

Ryan’s breath heaves against the back of Matt’s neck, his nose nuzzling against the damp skin. “You think you’re fuckin’ sneaky. Like you can get away with shit. I knew you weren’t asleep; I was waiting for you to call me out. But you won’t, ‘cause you’re a little bitch, Matt. All you did was try ‘n get off to it. Fuckin’ degenerate.”

It should make Matt feel like shit, like he deserves, but all it does is bring his orgasm closer. “I-I’m sorry, Ryan, ‘m sorry, fuck, a-ah—”

“Come for me,” Ryan mutters, pressing a kiss to the nape of Matt’s neck. “Right now. Come for me, Matthew.”

It’s the kiss that really gets him off. Matt moans, his hips snapping against Ryan’s hand as he comes in his pants in this tiny bed like an overly-hormonal little teenager with his boyfriend on a weekend trip. It’s too early and it’s beyond pathetic. 

Ryan isn’t much further behind him, though. Mostly because he started earlier. Matt hears  _ “fuck, fuck” _ buried in his skin like a secret he has to take to his grave as Ryan grasps Matt’s waist, bringing him impossibly close, his own hips stuttering against Matt’s ass. 

They lay stuck like that for a moment, both of them catching their breath. Ryan still has his hand on Matt’s waist and it singes the strip of skin showing between Matt’s pants and the hem of his shirt. 

“So, uh.” Matt clears his throat, starting to feel the wet patch in his pants cool uncomfortably. Fuck this air conditioning. “Are we gonna—?”

“Nope.” Ryan pats Matt on the arm before rolling away from him. “We don’t gotta talk about anything. You can go back to sleep, buddy.” 

“Sure, yeah.” Matt just looks at the opposite wall again, his stomach fluttering in an familiarly unfamiliar way that he doesn’t know how to account for. “Sleep. Sounds great, man.”  
  



End file.
